


steal me with a kiss

by jack_the_giantkiller



Series: dear diary, i met a boy [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jack_the_giantkiller/pseuds/jack_the_giantkiller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian is doing laundry in his boxers at the all night laundromat when someone comes in, covered in blood. It goes better than expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	steal me with a kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to [frnsm](http://frnsm.tumblr.com/) and [cloveoil](http://cloveoil.tumblr.com) on tumblr for the beta.

It’s nearly three am, and the city outside is dark and relatively quiet—the only sounds he can hear are the rumbling of the dryer under him, the pouring rain, and the occasional car driving by. The street lamp outside is dead, the only light the dim haze of other lamps down the street and the flickering light of a neon sign.

Dorian is sitting in his boxers atop a dryer at the all night laundromat a few blocks from his apartment. He’s been living out of his hamper for the last week. He’s down to his last pair of clean underwear and temporarily come out of hermitude in his nook at the campus library to do laundry.

The bell hanging over the door jingles, and he looks up reflexively. A man shoulders his way in, soaking wet. Dorian starts an automatic appraisal, elevator-look dragging from the man’s legs (exceptionally fit), up to his abs (even more fit), to his chest—and stops.

His shirt is covered in blood. Not quite drenched in it, but definitely close enough. The dark stain spreads over his white shirt, fading at the edges where the rain bleeds it out. He glances up at the man’s face. Blonde curls and the perfect amount of stubble on a strong jaw. A scar intersecting his upper lip— surprisingly cute for a murderer.

"If you're going to kill me, can it least wait until after I've finished writing this paper? It's worth half my grade."

The man looks up at him in confusion. Comprehension dawns in his eyes and he glances down at his shirt, laughing. “I think you’re in luck—no murders for me today.”

“Just today? I _am_ lucky.”

Dorian shifts, placing his laptop on the washer next to him. He draws his legs up beneath him to sit more comfortably. He props an elbow on his knee, hand supporting his chin so he can better examine his new companion. Physically, he’s at least an 8 out of 10. He’s deliciously rumpled and his clothes cling to him, soaked from the rain. Yes, he’d like to get a closer look at this man, despite the fact that he’s a stranger who just showed up out of nowhere at three in the morning, covered in blood.

The man chuckles and strips out of his shirt leaving him barechested, and yes, just as fit as he’d originally thought, mentally bumping him up to a 9.

“If we’re both going to be sitting here half naked and alone for the next little while, and I’m still going to be alive to speak of this later, I think we should do introductions—I’m Dorian.”

“Cullen,” the man says, as he drops his shirt in the sink, turning the cold water on full blast. “Just a nosebleed, I promise. I was—” He stops, focusing on rinsing the stains. “I was a little upset, and wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Walked into a lamp post.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate.” Dorian hums, dragging his laptop back into his lap. “And boring. You should come up with a better story to impress the ladies.”

"Let's not limit ourselves, I'd like to be impressive to gentlemen too." Cullen is diligently rinsing blood out of his shirt, but watches Dorian out of the corner of his eyes.

Dorian is familiar with that kind of wary look—mostly from giving it himself. "I am certainly a good judge, in that case." Cullen gives him a relieved smile. "If you don't mind selling the kidney of your choice, the vending machine has hydrogen peroxide. Might be helpful."

"Thank you." As Cullen moves to inspect the vending machine, Dorian saves his paper and emails it to himself just in case. He knows he should probably keep working on it, but he can afford a few hours off to talk to a handsome man. It isn't due until tomorrow anyway, he has time. Some.

"So, let's start with this story of yours, hm? Muscles like those, I bet you'd hold your own in a fight, so let's start there."

"I do teach self defense,” Cullen admits, feeding the vending machine. As he leans down to get his prize, Dorian unashamedly admires his ass. Definitely a solid 9. Potentially a 10, depending on what was under those jeans.

Cullen slips his hands into the latex gloves and carefully drips the hydrogen peroxide onto his shirt. “Uh, is it supposed to do that?” he asks, as it foams up.

Dorian slips off the washer and moves to look over his shoulder. “I think so. It looks like it’s helping, anyway.”

“So, I was defending myself in a fight against this guy—”

“Defending someone else. That makes you sound heroic.”

“So I was defending this poor little old lady from this guy who was trying to take her purse—guys, did I mention there were three of them?”

“Now we’re talking.” Dorian grins, leaning against the wall.

“I was busily taking them all out, but one of them got in a lucky blow.”

"So, you got in a fight with three goons in a back alley to save a poor little old lady from getting mugged. You gallantly defended her, and managed to run them off, valiantly taking a punch for your efforts.” Hemming and hawing exaggeratedly, Dorian thinks this over. “Not bad, but I feel like we can take it up another level.”

“Oh? You have ideas?”

“The mob, obviously. The little old lady is the mother of an Italian mafia don, and the three men weren’t trying to rob her, they were from a rival crime family, trying to take a hostage!”

Cullen bursts out laughing. “And I accidentally ally myself with the Italian mafia, trying to defend a helpless old lady?”

“Of course not—she hits you in the face with a blackjack, for thinking she needs protection.”

“I think your story needs some work to be believable, Dorian.”

“Believable, no; impressive? Yes.” He winks at Cullen. “At least to me.”

Cullen reaches up to rub the back of his neck; Dorian can tell it’s a nervous tic.

“Careful.” Dorian catches Cullen’s wrist before he can touch his neck. “Hydrogen peroxide— nasty stuff, don’t want that on your skin.”

“Oh! Yes. Obviously.” Cullen ducks his head, tugging out of Dorian’s grasp to return to his shirt. “Uh, thank you.”

“My pleasure.” It’s just too fun, teasing the poor man.

“So, you think I should go with the mob story, then?” Cullen’s face is extraordinarily skeptical, a frown pulling at the scar on his lip.

“Well, let’s see you come up with a better one.” Dorian is, perhaps, a little offended.

“No, I think I’ll use it. After all, you did say it was impressive.”

“I did. Guaranteed to impress any man looking to be impressed. I, of course, can’t speak for women, but I assure you, you’re already extraordinarily appealing. The story can only add to it.” He’s laying it on a little thick, but the way Cullen blushes…. It goes all the way down to his chest, and Dorian can easily see himself following it with his mouth, kissing his way down that body. It doesn’t hurt that Cullen is exceptionally charming too, in an awkward kind of way.

Finally, Cullen finishes with his shirt, stepping around Dorian to stuff it in one of the smaller washing machines, forking over the quarters it demands. He shakes his head. “I swear these get more and more expensive every time I use them.”

“Like I said: kidney of your choice. Do you not usually use laundromats then?”

“No, I have an apartment with hookups—but my sister and her kids are staying with me, and I didn’t want to wake them up.”

“Sweet of you.”

“To be perfectly honest, I’m sure the kids would be fine— Mia, on the other hand, would probably do me a worse injury than the little old mafia lady with her blackjack.”

“Ah, sisterly love.”

“My whole life.” Cullen says drily. “She’s the eldest of four and never lets any of us forget it. Do you have siblings?”

“I am fortunate enough to be an only child. I do sometimes wonder, but then I hear such delightful tales as yours and am again content with my lot in life.”

“Siblings aren’t all bad. We used to play chess. Mia won every time, until my brother Bran and I practiced for weeks and weeks. The day I finally won was a delight—as was the look on her face.”

Cullen looks happy and content, nostalgic, Dorian thinks, and for once he truly does think he might have liked a sibling. Dorian is about to speak when his dryer beeps loudly. “That’s me, then.” He saunters towards where he left his basket, leans gratuitously down to pick it up for Cullen’s sake, and sure enough when he looks out of the corner of his eye, Cullen’s staring at his ass. He grins. “Enjoying the view?”

Cullen coughs, looking away. Dorian doesn’t wait for an answer and starts pulling his clothes out of the dryer.

“You don’t have to be shy, I’m more than used to being admired by handsome men.” Once done, he turns to look at Cullen. Cullen who isn’t looking at him, eyes focused on the floor. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, I’ll stop. I assumed you were interested.”

At that, Cullen looks up sharply. “Maker’s breath, I’m bollocksing this up. I’m sorry.”

“Apologies aren’t required.”

“I… I only recently admitted to myself that I like men as well as women, and sometimes it’s still…”

“Ah, yes, I quite understand. But you do wish to continue this…?”

“Yes, I would. I would definitely enjoy that. I find you— distracting.”

“Distracting, am I? I do like the sound of that. Tell me, what about me do you find distracting?”

“The piercings, for one. Do you just have the—” Cullen gestures widely but he means to call out Dorian’s nipples and ears. The nipples are simple, just captive bead rings, done in an elegant looking gold. The ears— Dorian has a helix spiral in the shape of a golden dragon wrapped around his right ear and two small gold rings in each lobe.

Dorian raises an eyebrow. “I do not,” he grins, “But you’d have to buy me dinner first if you want to see the others.”

“That can be arranged. What do you like to eat?” Cullen pulls out his phone, then looks up at Dorian in slow horror as he realizes what he said. Dorian can’t help the snicker that escapes him at Cullen’s deer-in-the-headlights look. “Pretend I didn’t just say that. What’s your number?” Cullen is bright red, but his voice is steady, and Dorian can’t help but admire his courage.

“Well, I like to start with _cock_ tails,” Dorian begins, smiling impishly. “Oysters and piña coladas, for the pineapple, you understand.”

“Maker’s breath, I regret asking already.” Cullen mutters, handing over his phone.

Dorian adds a new contact and sends a text to his own number, giving Cullen his phone back just as it buzzes. “I’ll be busy with this paper for the next few days. It really is worth half my grade, but after that, I’ll let you know?”

Cullen nods. “Do you want help folding?”

“Help would be very much appreciated, it’s my least favorite part of an already annoying task.”

Dorian is pleasantly surprised when Cullen takes the opportunity to step in close to him, not quite touching but intimately close, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. They work quickly—too quickly for Dorian’s taste, because he knows he has to get back to his paper, or at the very least back to his apartment for some sleep, and he’d rather stay here with Cullen. When they’re finished he turns, and he’s just that fraction of an inch closer, close enough to kiss. So he does, leaving a light kiss on Cullen’s cheek. When he pulls back, Cullen is smiling.

“Would I be correct in assuming I’m the first man you’ve asked out since the realization of your bisexuality?”

“Yes, you would.”

Dorian throws a shirt on, careful to make sure it doesn’t catch on his earrings, and steps into an old pair of jeans. No sense putting on something nice for a walk home in the rain in the middle of the night.

“Then it would be a shame if I didn’t leave you with something more memorable than just a kiss on the cheek, yes? A reward for good behavior?”

“I think I’d enjoy that, if that’s what you wanted.”

“Oh, I want very much.” Cradling Cullen’s head in his hands, Dorian pulls him closer, kissing him softly and sweetly. “There you are. Your first kiss.” He grins, and is surprised when Cullen tugs him back, kissing him again.

“And my second.” He’s clearly pleased with himself, and Dorian’s only too regretful that he can’t stay and continue kissing that sweet smile.

“Our time is up, unfortunately. I’ll talk to you later?”

Cullen nods firmly. He hesitates, but leans in and kisses Dorian’s cheek, pulling back with a goofy grin. “I’ll talk to you later, Dorian. Have a nice night.”

“And you as well, Cullen.” He waves as he leaves, laundry basket balanced on his hip, shouldering open the door and heading out into the night.


End file.
